Squall rested with his stomach to the earth, one cheek against rich soil. He was suffering a fever and the chilled dirt beneath him felt good. His fingers felt numb. His lungs felt as though they harbored heated cobwebs. The mercenary had become incapacitated while testing his skills in the training center. A grat, wounded but not yet slain, wriggled helplessly ahead. It's tendrils whipped back and forth without destination as it lay dying. A foul odor wafted from it's exposed entrails. The scent caused excess saliva to pool in Squall's throat; A result of nausea. The Mercenary closed his eyes, no longer interested in watching his enemy. The grat's desperate shuffle soon began to resemble rhythmic ocean waves. Tendrils over branches and brush melted into the soothing sound of water caressing sand. Over...and over...and over.
*** Squall found himself on the shore of Edea's Orphanage, meticulously arranging pebbles just out of the ocean's reach. He was a boy - barely boasting eight years old, clad in threadbare levis and a ragged, gray shirt. The t-shirt's collar was stretched and hung loosely over one shoulder. He worked silently, completely occupied by the task at hand. Squall had no interest in the surrounding world, nor the people in it. Only the pleasant, nameless pattern he had created from slick stones. It was a Friday which meant the orphanage would fall victim to an array of hopeful visitors. Couples would meander through Edea's meager home, looking at each child in a prospective manner. The Sorceress' War had lead to an abundance of orphans and now, nearly a decade later, the do-gooders of Gaia were flooding forth to 'pick up the pieces'. Squall had no desire to participate. It was too painful to be repeatedly rejected. Would-be parents always chose the youngest, the sweetest, the most extroverted of Edea's children. They had a tendency to over look Squall - unobtrusive as he was. "Hey! Princess!" Squall's shoulders stiffened. His hands quickly wiped away the pattern of stones at his feet. He tried to do so with subtle grace, but the attempt to hide his work would appear hurried nonetheless. Squall remained crouching on the shore as trudging footsteps neared his back. Seifer. The taller boy's smell swept over Squall, somehow caught in a fleeting current of wind that kissed his nose. It was a grassy smell; fresh, but feral. A long stick struck the sand in front of him. Its tip buried itself in the soft grains ahead, allowing it to stand upright on it's own. Squall would stand and grasp the branch's hilt, reluctantly accepting Seifer's invitation to spar. This was a frequent event. Refusing was not an option.
Squall turned to acknowledge his foe. Seifer was perched on one of the large rocks that bordered Edea's shore. He was grinning; confident as ever. Seifer was nine and already several inches taller than Squall. He was wearing a navy blue tank top. The sleeves had not always been absent. They had been ripped away, leaving jagged threads in their wake. Light dirt dusted the knees of his black shorts and per usual, he was shoeless. "C'mon! You ready, Princess?" He too possessed a branch which he now aimed tauntingly in Squall's direction. Again the blonde's scent permeated his senses. It seemed unusually strong considering their distance and remained an unintentional display of dominance between them. ***
Seifer pulled squall from the ground with uncharacteristic softness. Gathering the entirety of Squall's body into his arms would prove a menial task. The brunette had never weighed much. After achieving his goal, Seifer took a moment to appreciate the (fevered) warmth of his charge; The feel of another man in his arms. It was an empowering sensation and one that he did not imagine would happen again anytime soon. He had only allowed himself to coddle Squall so completely because there had been no witnesses to jeer the event. Squall had remained blissfully unconscious throughout and now, with his head lulled against the breast of Seifer's coat, offered little more than a brief tensing of his brow as his distant mind acknowledged a change in position. Seifer watched the other with some fascination; concerned that the other had been found in such a weakened state. Flushed cheeks. Pale hands. A rasping cough. A visit to the infirmary was in order. Seifer turned and began to calmly stroll towards the Training center's exit, intentionally stepping on the tendrils of Squall's still-struggling Grat while passing. Balamb was quiet. This was because it was just shy of 03:30 and the facilities students, staff & instructors were still soundly tucked in their beds. Even the sun had yet to wake. Seifer, per usual, had not retired to bed yet. He had known where to find Squall at this hour; though the brunettes illness had come as a surprise. Squall was a regimented young man. On Mondays and Wednesdays he warmed his muscles with intense training sessions before attending Combat Course 1040. on occasion, while feeling particularly confrontational, Seifer would seek out his enemy and torment him until a physical fight broke out. This was not only a guilty pleasure, but a method of stress relief for the brazen blonde. No one in Balamb was better suited to satisfy Seifer Almasy's addiction to banter. Squall's verbal slings were as venomous as his strikes. He was quick of tongue, nimble of foot and knew the other on a level that no one else could boast. Seifer openly appreciated these aspects. Squall...did not. Which made games of tormenting him all the more enticing. But today had not yielded such results. For the first time in nearly a decade, Seifer had approached his lifelong foe without anticipating blatant rejection. Rare moments like these allowed him to reflect on a deeper aspect of their relationship. What they had was near a friendship - just on the cusp of being healthy. To spite constant quarrelling, the two were comfortable in one another's presence. This comfort did not resemble the secretly anxiety-riddled 'comfort' of a sexual couple or even the stannous comfort of pleasing a best friend. It was a pure, simple comfort that can only come from knowing of, and not being perturbed by, a companions most obnoxious qualities. Squall was anal retentive, passive aggressive and lacked a sense of humor beyond the charms of sarcasm. Seifer was arrogant, brash, and struggled to take even the most dire situation seriously. Both had no emotional ties beyond the infrequent friends that wormed their way in and out of their lives. The only constant in either mans world was the other and their happily-miserable partnership. Seifer contemplated this, if not on an abridged level, while maneuvering his way over fallen trees and stray stones. Seifer would make no effort to hurry their journey. He felt, somehow, more competent now that he had in years He was the sort that lacked academic achievement. He had no life-goals to speak of. But he could carry a wounded (or in this case, fevered) comrade to safety successfully. A++.
*** "...it's just. I feel that someone is waiting for me. This may seem an ignorant question, but. Is there a child here who needs..." The visitor's voice trailed off. She seemed embarrassed. She was a pretty, young woman. In her mid thirties at the latest with whisking brown hair that draped down her back in a long braid. Her slightly baggy, pink sweater made it obvious that her body lacked curvature. She was slender and graceful in place of sturdy. And yet a strength sparked underneath the green swell of her irises that promised maternal skill. Edea watched her patiently. hands gently clasped just above her waist while listening. "Yes," She smiled. "I do. He is slightly withdrawn But I think you two would suit each other." The matron looked down at a fair-haired child that had been waiting dutifully at her side. "Quistis, could you please find Squall?" The little girl nodded eagerly before trotting out of sight.
Quistis was also an Orphan, but had given up hopes of adoption long ago; Appointing herself Edea's personal assistant. The other children were not particularly fond of her due to her ties with authority - Seifer, particularly, did not like her and as he saw her running towards the shore where he and Squall were in the midst of sparring with sticks, he grimaced. Squall did not notice their guest. He was too focused on keeping his footing whilst being weighed down by his foes branch. Both sticks quivered against each other, reflecting the force behind their struggle. Seifer had always been stronger and so had the ability to multitask as Quistis arrived.
"-Whad'you want, pet." Edea's pet to be precise. Seifer grit his teeth in her direction, right arm shaking against squall's continued force. Their sticks did not part. "Are you lost?" The fair-haired child was tall and thin, struggling to keep up with her own growth. She placed her hands on her hips and frowned irritably at Squall's 'playmate'. "I didn't come out here for you, Seifer. Mama Edea wants Squall to come in and meet someone." Seifer's gaze turned back to his rival. Without warning he dove his weight forward, baring down on Squall until their sticks began to snap. Squall's eyes had wandered to Quistis - just for a moment; Surprised by any desire for his presence. It had been a mistake to become distracted. The abrupt change Seifer's baring forced Squall to lose his footing.
Quistis would make a perturbed, little cry as Squall fell bottom-first into a slithering wave. The water immediately soaked into his pants and the lower half of his lose shirt. It's chill immediately reflected on Squall's face as he stared up at them with a miserable expression. He was scowling. Seifer would respond with a smirk. "You hear that, Princess? Quistie says you gotta visitor. You interested?" Squall averted his eyes, irritably looking at the saltwater that pooled around his fingers. Irritated would remain evident in his expression as he stood and brushed sand from his being like a disgusted feline. The soaked brunette absently began walking towards Quistis when Seifer shoved him back.
"Don't be stupid-" Seifer reprimanded, "She's going to take one look at you and pick some other kid. She's gunna be a waste of time." Quistis' voice interrupted with shrill persistence. "No- She's wants Squall! She said so! She's really nice and really pretty!" Squall's stormy eyes immediately caught his messenger's; Focused. He was listening. "She's with Edea now...?" Again he tried to move around Seifer. Again, he was not allowed to pass. This time, he shoved back - expressing his lack of patience with the situation. "Knock it off - I'm going to see her." As Squall shoved towards Quistis, Seifer would be left looking dumbstruck...
...or was it fearful.
For just a moment, his rough exterior paled. The woman inside had been wanted Squall? Specifically? Maybe she was a relative that had heard news of the boys whereabouts. Maybe Squall's mother had survived and had come to take him home. A cold feeling of dread settled in Seifers stomachs as the possibility of Squall's removal from the orphanage as realized. Squall would not escape the other reach. A first hand snapped to his sopping sleeve and gave a violent jerk, flinging him downwards to a sharp collection of beach rocks. ""-No. You're not." Quistis yelped Seifer's name in a fruitless attempt to prevent a fight between the two boys. Both ignored her.
Squall leapt, tackling his bully. Their directory narrowly missed their witness, who had now began to bark tired orders. "Stop! Stop it, you two! SQUALL!" There had been no choice. Seifer wasn't the best communicator, but he had made his intentions perfectly clear. Squall wouldn't be allowed to follow Quistis without a fight. The two scrambled over one another in the sand, throwing dirty punches whenever an opportunity presented itself. Sharp pebbled bore into their bones as they rolled. Limps were pulled at uncomfortable angles, clothing was ripped. Neither seemed capable of withdrawal. Quistis could do little more than circle them, surveying the unexpected chaos.
Eventually she threw up her hands, close to crying. "I'm getting Edea!" Her hasty retreat would hardly register between the two brawling boys. In the moments that followed, Squall would find himself pinned underneath the weight of his rival, hands painfully tangled above his head. He choked on furious tears, face filthy with sand and smeared crimson from his bleeding nose. He had become so upset during their scuffle, that could offer little more than a pained cough/sob.
Seifer was out of breath. An array of small cuts from a cluster of dried weeds decorated his left cheek. The collar of his shirt was now sporting a rip down its center. He took in a few gulps of air, panting between each burst while preparing to speak. "You think she's gunna take you home?!" Seifer sat up and wiped sand from his face, attempting to relieve his eyes of it's sting. "Nobody in THERE!" He pointed to the orphanage that rested a good distance from their battleground, "Or out THERE!" then towards the ocean's horizon which had began to reflect the ominous hues of evening. "-is ever gunna want us! You and me don't get to have parents!" Squalls chest shook. His face trembled with the struggle of keeping tears at bay. He was furious. His throat had been muted by the sting of misery, rendering him incapable of a retort. He crawled backwards from underneath his enemy's' body, then turned to push himself from the ground. Seifer would remain on his knees. His position would have mimicked pleading if not for his arrogant tone of voice. He continued with new-found panic, well aware that Quistis would be returning with their matron soon. "-You and me are the same! We're no good. An no woman want's-"
"-SHUT UP!" Squall roared with an intensity rarely witnessed. His hand cut through the hair in an all-too-adult gesture of dismissal. "I am not you- I am not like you! I HATE you! And I'm going!" He took two tentative steps backwards, posture defensive. His eyes were almost luminescent thanks to their heated tears. Seifer stared into them with cold determination. A pregnant pause moved between them, met only with the swishing waves of the beach. The moment Seifer hinted at movement, Squall turned tail and began sprinting towards the orphanage. He would feel his tormentor quick on his heals, but somehow kept out of reach.
The two darted over stones and brush, only vaguely aware of the path being taken. They were like wild animals: Squall, a desperate rabbit and Seifer, a dog in pursuit. As they rushed into the orphanage's courtyard, Squall felt an ominous tug at the back of the shirt, and in an attempt to prevent capture, darted around a stone corner. This tactic would prove successful. Seifer slipped and went skidding (rather painfully) across the cobblestone ground. Neither boy would cry out. It wasn't in their nature. Perhaps because crying out had never done anything for either of them...instead, they struggled through the moment in silence.
Squall's course had taken him not to the front door, but to the back entrance of Edea's orphanage. This was just as well. He would have liked to avoid bursting in on Edea's guest in the condition his ordeal currently presented. The small brunette ran into the back, entering the 'bedroom'. He bent over his own knees, gasping for breath. A collection of beds bore witness to his presence. They lined either side of the room, belonging to no child and every child in the orphanage. Finally able to breathe, Squall moved to glance into the single mirror that hung between two beds. The dirtied face peering back was less than pleasing. He pulled his shirtsleeves low over his hands and used them to wipe haplessly at his blood smeared face. In a few moments, Edea would find him. Or Quistie. Had they made it out to the beach yet? Were they looking for him? It was hard to say. It seemed children were often left to their own devices at the orphanage, but...if someone had asked for him -surely he would be noticed. Squall cleared his throat. Finished with their cleaning spree, his thin hands dropped to clutch absently at the sides of his pants. He began to walk towards the door that would lead him into the main playroom when he was roughly grabbed from behind.
Seifer's boyish arms caged Squall with surprising accuracy, pulling him backwards and away form his goal. Squall opened his mouth to express his displeasure; Maybe even to yelp some kind of alarm, but found the cold fingers of his foe across his mouth. His feet stomped, his hands clawed at the arms around his chest. He tried to shake his face from the hand cupped over his mouth. Squall had gone from angry to livid. He had hoped, no...he had been sure that Seifer would leave the scene upon failing to capture him before reaching the orphanage. But he had fallowed! Oh, if Edea caught them now, the blonde would be punished severely. The Matron's first rule was: 'No fighting in the home.' Seifer would be scrubbing floors and weeding the garden for WEEKS.
Unfortunately, that would come later - Upon Edeas discovery. For now, Seifer was Squall's problem. He forced them into the closet, stumbling a bit as they fell backwards against it's polished edges. Darkness encased them as the closet doors closed. Above, clothing dangled in an almost soothing manner. Breifly, Squall attempted to escape his situation, but his oppressor was stronger and soon had caught his body so thoroughly that he could not move. He sat, fuming. Pouting. Waiting. There was no terror involved in Squall's situation - only exasperation. WHY had this become such a struggle? Had Seifer simply decided to be at his worst this evening? Probably.
Both boys tenses as the back door creaked and dropped shut. Quistis' voice disrupted the awkward silence that had enveloped the room. "I saw them come this way," she protested with a note of confusion. Edeas calm steps fallowed as Quistis moved through row of beds, presumably looking under several. The matron's movements were unmistakable, even without visual aid. Squall grew still in spite of himself. He listened, immersed in the childish habits of hide & seek. Seifer too, was silent. His chest rose and fell against Squall's back; sporting a true fugitive rhythm. There they sat and breathed together, growing oddly comfortable while in the throws of mischief.
As his eyes adjusted, Squall glance upwards at his captor. What he saw, threw him off. Seifer did not look devious. His face was not lit with the expressive smirk that so frequently ignited his features. In its place was anxiety. The worry that crinkled Seifers brow was unusually sincere. upon viewing this, Squall's body relaxed. He averted his eyes, staring numbly at the back of the closet doors. On some level, he understood what this was about now. Though Seifer's mind was too preoccupied to sense the others submission, his body picked up on it right away. The hand clasped over Squall's mouth eased its grip.